


Legwarmers

by hermitreunited



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ballet AU, I don't even know who I am anymore but I know I'm having fun, I'm not sure how much / if at all the other Hargreeves will be in this?, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Panic Attacks, The Nutcracker, YES they are dance partners YES Klaus is the one in pointe shoes in this scenario, alright FINE I thought it was going to be pure fluff but apparently I don't know what that is, no powers au, so beware angst ahoy, this is pure holiday romantic fluff, yeeahhh it's a fic about Klaus sorry gang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermitreunited/pseuds/hermitreunited
Summary: They all like to tease him about Dave. Dave is also up there, on Klaus’ favorites list. He’s from out of town, also a traveling performer.He’s supposed to be a dreamboat. The character is. It’s good casting. If you’re into hot, strong, talented dancer types with shoulders as broad as the humor in a nineties laugh track sitcom and a smile like lighting a match. Well, alright, the thing about the shoulders is not something Tchaikovsky wrote, but it’s implied in the text. In the score. The point is that it’s purely professional that Klaus has noticed the shoulders. Dave’s shoulders. Klaus has noticed.
Relationships: Dave/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 124
Kudos: 170





	1. Chapter 1

It’s a good thing legwarmers came back. Well, maybe they haven’t, yet, but that’s not going to stop Klaus. Pants are good, but legwarmers are better - they have an unquestionably better name. Klaus spent enough time in the cold to appreciate warmth.

The heated air of the rehearsal space blasts into him like it knows it’s on his mind. It’s always toasty in a dance studio, which is one of the main reasons Klaus found himself drawn to them when he was younger. That, and how beautiful it all is. Before he even knew about the heating, he found himself outside of Mandy’s studio on Calhoun Street, pointing his toes into the best curve he could as he watched the dancers through the wall length window. Eventually Mandy invited him inside, not realizing that now she’d never get rid of him.

It could be said that the son of a billionaire shouldn’t know a thing about hardship, and it had been said, many times. And it’s true, a billionaire’s kid _shouldn’t_ know about the chill of winter pavement seeping into his bones. Klaus was adopted.

He’s all about pushing boundaries, anyway, which is why he’s got pointe shoes in his bag.

He joins the snowflakes warming up in the back, even though he’s early and not going to be needed for a while. And he’ll stretch with the lambs too, when they come in. The lambs are his favorite, except for the snowflakes, who have basically formed themselves into his unasked for but welcome retinue. 

They like to tease him about Dave. Dave is also up there, on Klaus’ favorites list. 

“He’s not here yet.” Jamie makes knowing eye contact with him in the mirror.

“What?” It’s more believable that he didn’t hear them than that he doesn’t know who they’re talking about.

“Your Cavalier,” they say.

“Right. Our rehearsal’s not until ten.” Klaus makes a show of searching out the wall clock. It’s to the right of the door, like it has been for the past two of rehearsal. “Wow, is it only seven?”

Jamie rolls their eyes before closing them into a deep stretch. Klaus closes his eyes, too - after he shoots one last look at the hallway. Just in case there are any other early birds in this cast.

It’s a cast of literally hundreds. The Philharmonic is hosting the production, pulling together ballet students from all across the city. The snowflakes are mostly from the college, but there are amateurs of all ages, right down to the mice and lambs who are as young as five.

If Klaus’ life at five had gotten to include being in The Nutcracker, instead of - well, it’d be a different life. He doesn’t like to think a lot bout his childhood, but being around all these kids and back in his hometown for this show has got it all back on his mind again. Plus the godfather character remind him of dear old dad, except Reg was less of a whimsical toymaker with enough magic to bring toys to life and more of a mad scientist with enough money to do whatever he wanted to his experiments. They’ve got that sick pointy white beard in common, though.

He can’t complain. He _can,_ but he won’t. If his life had been one that had seen him as a Nutcracker cherub at five, maybe he would have gotten bored with ballet. If he hadn’t thrown himself out of his father’s house and into dance, if it had been a hobby and not a salvation, maybe he wouldn’t be the Sugar Plum Fairy today. 

Objectively, it’s a better role than a cherub. There’s a big solo at the top of the second act, and then a few numbers after that, all with a partner. The Cavalier.

He’s from out of town, also a traveling performer. Really from out of town, not returning ‘home’ like Klaus. They’ve got him and Klaus and the other two visiting pros put up at the same hotel across the street. 

He’s supposed to be a dreamboat. The character is. It’s good casting. If you’re into hot, strong, talented dancer types with shoulders as broad as the humor in a nineties laugh track sitcom and a smile like lighting a match. Well, alright, the thing about the shoulders is not something Tchaikovsky wrote, but it’s implied in the text. In the score. The point is that it’s purely professional that Klaus has noticed the shoulders. Dave’s shoulders. Klaus has noticed.

Dave is also much _nicer_ than he needs to be. Other partners, before, they’ve put up more of a fuss about being paired with Klaus. Not where a director could see, of course. Wouldn’t want to get a reputation for being a diva. But it’s been made clear to Klaus, plenty of times. 

He does sort of get it; with his last name, people might believe the reason Klaus is here is because his daddy got him in. The idea that Reginald Hargreeves would support his (adopted) son’s pursuit of ballet, of all things, is laughable, to anyone who knows him. As if he’d do anything to help Klaus. Of course Klaus does make a point not to run in circles where anyone knows Reginald Hargreeves. 

So maybe it’s not the fault of those other people - they don’t know any better. But neither does Dave, and Dave is nice anyway. And he’s got those Tchaikovskian _shoulders._

Dave shows up with plenty of time to spare to be ready to run their big number. Not three hours early, but. 

It goes well. They’re both professionals; they can get a feeling for a program fairly quickly. There’s something more than that, though. They’re good. They’re good together. A good fit. 

With Dave’s steady hands around his waist, holding him up in the air, Klaus can tell himself that it’s performance anxiety that has his stomach doing entrechats. He hasn’t been nervous like this in long time, but that’s still all it is. No matter what the snowflakes insinuate.

When Dave lets him down from the lift, when Klaus is in his arms and looking up into his face, flushed and alive and smiling at him like that, then Klaus knows. It’s not the dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I wasn't going to do this, but now I've done this. At least _this,_ the first chapter. I got possessed by this idea after taking my niece to The Nutcracker, and since it's holiday adjacent, I wanted to get it out now! I don't have the rest written, this is very on the fly, which isn't how I normally post. But also I never would have thought I'd be writing a fluffy holiday ballet au either, so. It's for fun! I hope to churn out the rest quickly, but I can make no promises. 
> 
> Thanks to [@ativanpire](https://ativanpire.tumblr.com/), [ @sunriseseance](https://sunriseseance.tumblr.com/), and [ @TwistedIllusions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedIllusions). It's basically their fault that this exists. For _encouraging_ me with all of my _headcanons._ The absolute lunatics.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thanks,” Dave says. “You’re a life saver.”
> 
> It’s a factually inaccurate statement but it is a nice one. Then the doors slide shut, closing in the little space, and Klaus realizes too late that this is absolutely not the morning to be practicing personal growth and taking a fucking elevator, and then Dave looks over at Klaus and says, “Oh, it’s you!” and _smiles_ and Klaus realizes that ‘nice’ is not a strong enough word.

He’s running late. Maybe for the first time since he’s been on this show? And okay ‘late’ is relative, he’s not actually going to make anyone wait on him, but he’s not multiple hours early. So probably what that means is that he’s being a normal person. That’s an ill-fitting moniker for Klaus.

It’s not that he overslept. That’s also a thing that doesn’t fit with Klaus conceptually. He can barely _sleep_ much less overly. That’s sort of what’s to blame for this morning’s lateness - he couldn’t sleep so he started thinking and then he needed a really long really hot shower to boil the thoughts from his brain, and ‘really long’ turned out to be a lot longer than he realized. It’s a nice hotel, they’ve got hot water for days. Or at least for closer to two hours than Klaus would like to publicly admit.

But he’s back in the city he grew up in, where he slept in bus shelters and in stranger’s beds and against the wall of the laundry room in the alley behind this very hotel. The city that gave him streetlights to practice his footwork under when he snuck away from the sucking darkness of his father’s house. His father who is hugely rich, so no matter what he used to do to his kids, he’s a pillar of the local community and could conceivably attend the Philharmonic’s production of The Nutcracker, to keep up appearances. Klaus is reasonably sure that Reginald doesn’t care enough about Klaus to come to the show just to fuck with him, and that’s a mercy.

The thought of Reg being anywhere near the lambs or the mice or the cherubs or really, any single member of the cast but especially the kids - it gives Klaus a feeling that requires a two hour long shower to steam out of his bones.

So he’s rushing out of the hotel one shower late when he smacks his hand across the doors to hold the elevator for his cavalier. 

“Thanks,” Dave says. “You’re a life saver.”

It’s a factually inaccurate statement but it is a nice one. Then the doors slide shut, closing in the little space, and Klaus realizes too late that this is absolutely not the morning to be practicing personal growth and taking a fucking elevator, and then Dave looks over at Klaus and says, “Oh, it’s you!” and _smiles_ and Klaus realizes that ‘nice’ is not a strong enough word.

“Oh, uh - yeah,” he manages to say. 

Dave has a scrunchy smile. It makes his whole face come alive, like every inch of him is excited to be smiling at you. It is, frankly, a lot to take in.

“I didn’t think I’d run into you here,” Dave is saying. “I was starting to think maybe you were avoiding me. We’re on the same floor, you’d think this would have happened before now.”

Klaus can’t hold back his massive sigh, because yes, you _would_ think that if you were thinking at all and not leaving hours early because somehow seeing Dave in the rehearsal space at the Phil seems more likely than seeing him anywhere else because that’s the only place you’ve seen him before, even when you know for a fact that you are sleeping in the same hotel. Which, sleeping is going to be even harder to do now that when Klaus snuggles into bed, he’ll be thinking of Dave doing the same somewhere a mere few walls away.

Those goddamned snowflakes. They got to him. Klaus is such a goner; they were all totally right. 

The elevator dings and the doors part to reveal the lobby. As he steps out, he realizes that he got through the seven floors without panicking about the walls boxing him in, and now he’s got a brand new reason to stare at Dave in wonderment.

Jamie’s never going to let him hear the end of it. Well, they’ll have to, when the production ends. There’s only a few weeks left. His heart takes an elevator ride of its own.

“Are you going over to the theatre right now?” Dave asks. “I know you like to get there early.”

‘Only because I’m deeply stupid,’ Klaus doesn’t say. ‘Because all this time I could have been waiting to walk with you.’ 

He can rectify that last part though, expect then Dave says, “I’d walk with you, but I was going to grab a bagel.”

Which is clear enough. Klaus is selfish and smitten but he can take a hint. 

“Or something. Just some kind of breakfast, most important meal of the day and all. Maybe eggs is better? Protein.”

Klaus can take a hint. But now, with Dave making no move to go and get his Wheaties, Klaus is unsure what that hint is supposed to be. He doesn’t want to think - he can’t let himself think that Dave - 

“What do you like?”

\- is inviting Klaus along.

“Bagel egg sandwich,” he says. “There’s no need to limit yourself.”

Dave grins. “I know the perfect place.”

Turns out the place he knows is one that knows Klaus; they put him on a ‘Do Not Serve’ list for some incident that he literally cannot remember. He can’t blame them, though. He’s sure they were in the right. It’s not the only establishment in the area with that stance.

While Klaus lingers by the doorway, Dave strides in and orders him a sandwich and the owner doesn’t say a single thing about it.

They chat and eat on their way to the theatre. He’s trod these downtown sidewalks many times, but it’s maybe the first time Klaus has ever done so with food and company.

It doesn’t really matter that they’re late when they’re late together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have realized belatedly that I've let you all down by not mentioning Dave's shoulders in this. Hopefully it's an issue I can fix with the next chapter, but I really couldn't say for sure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they’d be walking together tonight if the sleet would knock it off. Railing against the weather is as effective as any of Klaus’ complaints ever are, which is to say not at all, but he still holds up a middle finger at the sky. It keeps on pouring - it maybe even picks up - when Dave steps out the back door and joins Klaus under the small overhang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (whooops check the updated tags. Yes this was supposed to be fluff but conversations take a bit of a turn and Klaus has not the fluffiest past.)

Despite it being December, the temperature is doing a weird thing and it’s not even polite enough to properly snow, it’s _sleeting._ The hotel is only two blocks away but that’s still two city blocks. Fuck the fucking weather, he doesn’t have enough walks left to be missing out on any of them.

He and Dave have been walking back and forth from the theatre every day, and Klaus doesn’t want to get ahead of himself but it feels like every night, they spend even longer lingering outside their rooms to finish their meandering conversations.

They’ve talked about dance, about the business of it but also about the _love_ of it, how it feels for a body to move in exactly the way it intends to. Klaus knows the moment that Dave decided that ballet was more than a hobby, that it was going to be his life. Dave doesn’t know the same thing about Klaus, because Klaus panicked a little bit and changed the subject.

Klaus can’t say out loud that he fell for ballet because he was falling anyway. He doesn’t want to talk about how he lived the most literal definition of a sheltered life before he lived the exact opposite, but even back then he knew that you need to have _something,_ some kind of skill to offer. If you want to survive, you need to be of use. He’s lucky that dance pulls double duty and also makes him want to survive.

It’s all dark and depressing and nothing close to the hallmark cutesy story Dave’s got about being such a clumsy kid that his parents made him take ballet to try to cultivate a little bit of grace after he walked into a lamppost and knocked out his two front teeth.

Klaus does tell him that the classical music reminds him of the best times in his childhood. It’s a rare thing, that can remind him of being a kid but still make him smile. 

Dave hadn’t really smiled at that the way Klaus thought he might have, but he doesn’t stop walking with him, either.

And they’d be walking together _tonight_ if the sleet would knock it off. Railing against the weather is as effective as any of Klaus’ complaints ever are, which is to say not at all, but he still holds up a middle finger at the sky. It keeps on pouring - it maybe even picks up - when Dave steps out the back door and joins Klaus under the small overhang.

“Really coming down out there.” Dave states the obvious like a true Midwestern boy, peering up at the grey sky. Klaus just nods and tries to downplay the shiver that shakes his ribcage. “We’re going to have to go fast.”

Then the guy flashes a grin at him and takes off into the storm. The madman. He’s so ridiculous. He’s not like any dance partner Klaus has had before. He’s getting too far ahead. 

Klaus tears off after him. He’s got long legs, but he suspects Dave slows down to let him catch up. Not that Klaus can see him clearly enough to know for sure, raindrops clogging his eyes and his breaths clouding up the freezing air. 

“Careful, it’s slippery,” Dave warns, and then he grabs Klaus’ hand to pull him along. And it’s a good thing Dave’s got those strong arms that are so used to Klaus’ weight because of course Klaus stumbles, because _Dave grabbed his hand_ and _Dave is currently holding Klaus’ hand_ and Klaus’ literal profession is to keep himself balanced but Dave knocks him off his fucking feet and it’s not professional at all.

They are wet and Dave is polite so they take the concrete stairs in the back and they are breathless as they reach their floor. They’re both shaking, from the adrenaline or the cold or the laughter or all of it. 

“I can’t believe it,” Klaus wheezes. “That’s the worst kind of cold weather to be outside in, whatare you thinking?” They might be inside now but Klaus’ brain is still stuck back at the point when Dave grabbed his hand, and Dave is still holding his hand, all the way up seven flights of stairs, he’s kept holding on.

He lets go when he pushes open the door out of the stairwell. “You don’t know that,” Dave says.

“I promise I really do,” Klaus laughs.

Dave huffs a chuckle through his nose but it’s a different kind of sound than his laughter during their race through the rain. His gaze lands sharper, too, and Klaus isn’t sure how to feel under it. He crosses his arms and rubs them but it’s not going to help him get any warmer when every bit of him is this soaked.

“Hey, come on.” Dave tilts his head towards his door and he fumbles for his key card. “You’ve got to get warmed up.”

Klaus’ room is only four doors down. It’s not like he’s going to catch pneumonia any worse in the time from here to there.

Dave is inviting Klaus into his room. Which. It is a place Klaus had been wanting to go. But the feeling in his stomach is suddenly different than what he thought it would be.

Not a lot he can do about it, though. Not now. So, “Alright then,” he says and pushes up his eyebrows as he sidesteps in past Dave, who is holding the door for him as if he’s a gentleman. 

He bustles around, drapes a thick towel around Klaus’ shoulders, starts fiddling with something on the dresser. His room is basically the same as Klaus’, four doors down, but more lived in. He’s got things, pictures of family, a small stack of books that Klaus would normally snoop the titles of, maybe. But Klaus is dripping and awkward and out of place here. He’s usually much better at this. 

“It’s not really set up for entertaining,” Dave says, “but come in, sit down.” He points towards the bed.

Klaus nods. “Okay.”

He perches gingerly on the edge of the mattress. His hair keeps dripping water into his eyes and he has to keep blinking it away. He’s clutching the towel around himself but it’s not helping.

“I’m glad you came in.”

“I know better,” says Klaus. “It’d be an awkward couple of weeks if I tried to say no.” He laughs. God, he really is pretty stupid. Pretty and stupid, that’s his problem. They’d ran the whole way here but only now does it feel too fast. 

Dave sets two steaming styrofoam cups on the little table by the window and yanks the stiff backed chair out. He spins it so it’s facing Klaus and sits. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Like,” Klaus laughs, and starts peeling off his wet shirt, “there was this one guy?” Mick, his name was Mick, such a shitty dumb name. “He kept threatening that he’d drop me.” One of Klaus’ earlier paid experiences in a pas de deux, one that he really couldn’t afford to fuck up. Or get fucked up doing. Really literally couldn’t afford it, not if he wanted to sleep in a bed of his own for longer than a month. 

Dave’s face clouds over to match the weather outside, and Klaus realizes his mistake. He scrambles to add, “Jokingly, of course. All in fun.” Klaus laughs, to sell it. He doesn’t want Dave worried that Klaus is going to spill anything about him to his next partner.

Dave wipes a hand down his face, leaving his palm across his jaw for a moment like he’s holding it back. Then he heaves himself up and back over to the dresser.

Klaus fidgets on the bed. The air is warm enough, but it hasn’t chased away chill on the bare, damp skin of his chest and arms.

A heather zip-up hoodie lands on his lap. 

“Put that on, would you?”

Obediently, Klaus shrugs it on. It’s roomy on his torso but the arms are only just a little too long.If he curls his fingers into themselves, his hands disappear into the sleeves. It smells like Dave. It’s soft.

“Alright,” Dave says. “Thank you. Now, come on.” He puts his hand out for Klaus to take. When Klaus does, Dave pulls him to his feet and right back out to the hall. “Go get warmed back up, okay? But hold on.”

Klaus does, gripping the cuffs of the jacket with his fingertips, while Dave fetches the cup of hot tea.

“Drink this, that’ll help.” 

“Okay.” It comes out stilted; this isn’t a situation Klaus has been in before and he’s out of his depth trying to handle it.

Dave closes the door halfway before swinging it wide again to say, “I’ll see you in the morning.”He pulls the door shut again.

“Okay,” Klaus says bewilderedly. He’s about to turn towards his room when the door opens again.

“Klaus?” Dave says. “I will never drop you.” He sneaks in, “Good night,” just before the door latches closed.

“Good night,” Klaus says back, to the closed door. To the empty hallway. Rubbing the hem of the jacket, he adds, “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TwistedIllusions is responsible for the A+ idea of them getting caught in a rainstorm, I am at fault for,, everything else.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus doesn’t love waiting at the best of times, and he’s missing his daily dose of Dave’s eyes.
> 
> Still, he can’t help but smile at the wide-eyed kids drinking in their first experience backstage, and at the mainstage of the Phil, no less. Trying to carefully watch their feet to step over the heavy cables snaking every which way, while at the same time gaping up at the height of the curtains. It’s not their fault that time moves in a linear fashion and that Klaus is too chickenshit to ask Dave if, maybe, after this is done, maybe they could - maybe they could… something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New trigger warnings up in those tags! getting up close and personal with panic today, lads.

He’s not giving the jacket back. 

Well okay he _will,_ he’s not going to actually steal Dave’s stuff, not if Dave wants it back. But he is going to need to ask for it back; Klaus won’t just be handing it over out of the goodness of his heart. He doesn’t wear it the next morning, or the next. Not out, anyway, he doesn’t want Dave to see and ask for it back.

He didn’t need to worry. He does wear it, because, yeah, he’s not going to steal Dave’s stuff. But Dave doesn’t say anything until they get outside.

“Nice jacket,” he says, lips quirked into a smile that’s almost smug. 

“Oh, this?” Klaus pinches the soft fabric, then lets it go with a shocked expression. “That's right, it’s yours, isn’t it?" Klaus definitely didn't spend an evening or two clutching onto it and trying to figure out how a hoodie can smell like the way that light looks through honey, when that isn't even a smell. "Sorry, sorry, better give it back.”

His hand barely reaches the zipper. Dave catches his fingers gently - just grazes over the top of them, really, but it’s enough. “It’s cold out here. Don’t worry about that.”

So there you have it. Klaus isn’t going to worry about it. Didn’t need to, and doesn’t need to.

Same with ‘them.’ When Klaus went back to his room that night, he stared into the mirror, at his wet hair and his big jacket, and he worried. Because he didn’t know, not exactly, what had happened between them, and what might happen next. It had seemed like Dave was saying everything between them would be fine, but if anyone knows better, it’s Klaus. A guy can say a lot of things at night and do the opposite in the light of the next day.

What Dave does the next day, and the next day, is to take Klaus’ shoulder, or his elbow, and make sure that Klaus is looking into his earnest, honest, beautiful blue eyes. A striking, bright blue, like the first legwarmers Klaus ever bought with his own money. They were perfect. The point Dave is trying to make isn’t for Klaus to notice how blue his eyes are, but Klaus has noticed.

Every day, Dave uses his blue blue eyes to look deep into Klaus’, and he says, “I’ve got you, I promise.” Every time before they dance, he does this.  They don't talk about the night in Dave’s room. The only difference is Dave’s new pre-rehearsal ritual.

It’s not terrible.

Klaus is so, so fucked.

The Philharmonic has another show lined up for the new year. Apparently people in this town don’t want to watch Dave’s fantastic tour jetés for the rest of time, which is another point against this dumb city. Terrible taste. Klaus isn’t going to be able to change anyone’s mind about it, though. Whatever he has going on with Dave, it is, like this production, a limited run.

They aren’t even dancing today, not really. It’s the big tech day, practicing the costume changes and making sure the lighting cues are all together. Everyone just walks through it, because they have to keep pausing, and rewinding, and waiting. 

Klaus doesn’t love waiting at the best of times, and he’s missing his daily dose of Dave’s eyes.

Still, he can’t help but smile at the wide-eyed kids drinking in their first experience backstage, and at the mainstage of the Phil, no less. Trying to carefully watch their feet to step over the heavy cables snaking every which way, while at the same time gaping up at the towering height of the curtains. It’s not their fault that time moves in a linear fashion and that Klaus is too chickenshit to ask Dave if, maybe, after this is done, if maybe they could - maybe they could… something. 

Can’t even ask it in his own head. Coward.

They’re coming up on Klaus’ first appearance at the top of the second act, so he’s in the wings, trying to stay unobtrusive until they finally sort through all the cues and need him. He steps back to let the chain of adorable little awestruck cherubs shuffle past him. 

So he’s wedged between a props cart and a roll-on wall when all the lights go out. All the lights. They really screwed something up, the tech crew, because all the lights are out, but it’s the tech crew because Klaus is backstage, he is, he’s not a kid, he’s not — 

His back hits the wall. There’s walls pressing in, on all sides, he can’t move, he can’t make it stop.

‘You’re here, not there,’ he tells himself. You’re here, not there. You’re not a kid, you’re out of there.

It’s not going to be hours, it won’t be days like this. It’s dark now - it’s dark it’s dark _it’s so dark_ \- but it won’t be dark forever. You’re not there, you’re not back there. You’re not a kid, he can’t hurt you, because you _aren’t there,_ you’re here, you’re here you’re here.

“You’re here.”

He’s here and not there, because he can’t be there. He can’t get out of there. He’ll be there forever, but it can’t be forever, it can’t be, oh god, he can’t make it through forever like this. This can’t be forever, he can’t breathe and he can’t not breathe forever, his chest hurts _so much_ he has to breathe but he can’t there, he never can there and it hurts, and he’s just a kid, just a little kid, he can’t make it stop and it hurts his chest when he can’t breathe and he needs to get out of the dark, he has to, it’s got to stop, please it has to stop, dad, please don’t.

“Klaus, you’re just backstage, you can breathe. You need to breathe for me, Klaus.”

He needs to but he can’t.

“Yes, you can. Look.”

Pressure on his hand makes him flinch away, because he doesn’t want things to hurt anymore, and it makes him hit his head on the wall, because it doesn’t matter what Klaus wants. But when the grip relaxes, he lets out the air that had been bottled up inside. And he starts to be able to breathe with the rhythmic squeeze and relax and squeeze and relax on his hand, until sound can reach his ears again and his brain is connected to his lungs again and he can blink open his eyes.

The lights are back on.

God, he’s so tired. He’s so fucking tired, he could fall asleep right now, from doing nothing, from sitting on the ground. He’s not sure when he got on the ground, but he’s on the ground, his black pressed against the black concrete bricks, his knees pulled up to his chest. With every exhale, muscles in his exhausted body loosen, but they are drawn so impossibly tight that, even ten breaths in, there’s still tension to be released.

There’s Dave, and Dave’s wonderful blue eyes staring right into his like they do every day now. “You’re not there, Klaus, you’re here,” he saying, which is how Klaus learns that the embarrassing, stupid monologue in his head was also stuff he said out loud.

“Of course,” he says wryly. “Of fucking course. Why not?”

The lights may be on, but Klaus is still sandwiched into too small of a space, this time with the one way out blocked by a guy that Klaus really likes and respects and wants to have like and respect him back, who just watched him lose his mind and plead with nothing to set him free, so. Klaus needs to get out of here, right now.

He pushes himself to unsteady feet, on legs that are starting to shake as their function comes back. He heads to the loading dock, stumbling through the dim and close corridors of backstage. It’s always like this, every backstage across the country, but this one is in the city where Reginald lives and it turns out that is too much for Klaus to handle.

The big bay door is scrolled up; the cold outside air is welcomed in to combat the stuffy heat of the stage lights. Or it would be, if they fucking worked. Not that Klaus is bitter about it.

He sits in the wide opening, city and sky spread out in front of him. His legs dangle off the ledge, and his arms hug his torso tight. Tight is important, he’s still strung tight and he has to be, because whenever his core loosens, he is left with such a profound exhaustion that he’s in danger of falling.

That’s not necessarily a problem, it didn’t used to be, but now — 

“Klaus?” 

Dave’s here. 

“Yeah.” Even though he hasn’t actually spent the last day screaming in a black box, you wouldn't think so by the way Klaus' voice  scrapes its way out.

“Can you - what — ” Dave is trying to figure out how to ask if Klaus is done being crazy.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says. “It’s just stupid, it doesn’t happen that much, really. I think it’s just being home, it’s getting to me.”

“Home? You live here? But you stay at the hotel?”

He barks the words out like a curse. “I am _not_ _ever_ going back there.” 

Klaus is still looking out at the wide world, but he feels Dave sit next to him as he says, “That’s right, you’re here.”

“I used to sleep in trash, two streets that way, so that he couldn’t lock me in a box. I learned how to find a bed to that I could be strong enough to dance, so that I could find a way to live on my own, so that he can’t do that to me. Not ever again.” It sounds so stupid, out loud. Klaus doesn’t usually talk about it, because growing up as a child experiment doesn’t even sound real. “He’s a ‘scientist.’ He got kids so he could do research.”

“‘Research,’” Dave repeats, distantly. “That sounds illegal, that sounds — ”

“It sounds fake. Who would listen to kids about that? And he’s rich. Really really rich.” He knows Dave is putting it together now, exactly where Klaus got his last name. “He didn’t even adopt us, he _bought_ us. He’s that kind of rich.”

It’s a wound he thought had healed over, that he’s got enough distance from now that it shouldn’t be able to hurt, but the piercing in his heart aches just as sharp as it ever did. “I was a waste of ten grand.”

Klaus laughs, and pushes his fingers into his eyes. They’re wet, and he hadn’t noticed. He rubs the damp away. “I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry. I know this is just not professional — ”

“It’s not, you’re right.” Dave sets his hand gently on Klaus knee, and finally Klaus turns to look at him. “This isn’t professional, and that’s okay. This is friendship.”

It’s a statement that strikes like a match. It flares up so warm and so bright, an immediate and strong reaction to being called a ‘friend,’ but only for a moment. Then it just _burns,_ because ‘friend’ is a decidedly specific term.

Performers know how to smile though. Klaus smiles.

“Klaus, I really want to take you to dinner.”

Pity dinners aren’t the most appetizing, but Klaus used to sleep in trash, two streets that way. He doesn’t say no to free food. 

And dinner with a friend, that’s new. That’s nice, too. Klaus smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to ativanpire for sharing with me that Dave smells “like the way light looks through honey.” I didn't know that I knew that but it's absolutely true.
> 
> Oh! also I haven't mentioned on this fic yet that my tumblr is @hermitreunited and I like friends so please feel free to drop by.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus should tell him. Dave’s right there, just across the table, lit soft and warm in the restaurant’s devious lowered dinnertime lighting. There’s a candle in the middle of the table, a spark of dancing heat between them. It’s ridiculous. It’s torture. Klaus has got to tell him.
> 
> “Dave.”

The adult thing to do would be to tell him. Honesty, all of that. And a pity dinner really is better than he could have expected, after a mess like before. Losing every bit of his shit, and crying and whimpering about being a pathetic little kid when Klaus is a grown adult coming up on 30 - it’s not the best look. Not just unattractive, but the kind of overblown ridiculousness that’s best to avoid from all acquaintances, but Dave still asked him anyway.

Which. If you think about it. Klaus really _shouldn’t_ think about it, but, if he does... It’s just that if you are trying to distance yourself from the worst dance partner you’ve ever had, there’s better ways than taking him out to dinner.

He doesn’t really know what to wear, because he’s never really done a ‘friendship’ dinner. There’s not a particular piece in his wardrobe that says, ‘I understand that you are extremely uninterested in me in any romantic or sexual way, and I accept that, and I encourage that.’ Not really a situation he would have thought he needed to buy for. 

Although, again, but no he’s not thinking this. But. Dave really didn’t have to ask Klaus to dinner. Dave is such a nice guy, a genuinely nice good great guy, but asking Klaus to dinner is a step beyond, right?

Dave comes to Klaus’ door like he’s picking him up, even though they are just walking to the restaurant across the street. They walk together, just like they do every day. Somehow it’s the last part of that sentence that’s the most thrilling.

Which is why Klaus should tell him. Dave’s right there, just across the table, lit soft and warm in the restaurant’s devious lowered dinnertime lighting. There’s a candle in the middle of the table, a spark of dancing heat between them. It’s ridiculous. It’s torture. Klaus has got to tell him.

“Dave.”

He’s handled everything so well, so far; surely he’ll be able to handle Klaus’ misguided declaration of devotion with equanimity. He deserves the compliment, to take with him to wherever he goes next.

“Klaus.” Dave smiles at him, smiles at him in the same way he says his name. Spilling slow like honey, pitched low because it’s only meant to travel the space between them, meant for Klaus and no one else.

It’s a crime. It should be illegal. This is lethal force.

The waitress interrupts. Also should be against the law. Who knew that this classy downtown establishment was a front for such blatant delinquency? And is that an undercurrent of annoyance in Dave’s tone when he orders? And if it is, does that actually mean anything or not? Klaus just hasn’t done anything like this before. People usually make things explicitly clear, in his experience.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever danced with,” Klaus says. It’s the beginning of saying something more, but he’s not sure exactly what.

“Good.” Dave speaks up before Klaus gets the chance. “I’m really glad. I’m really glad that we are dancing together. This show has been an unforgettable experience. Just dancing with you is all I need for it to be unforgettable.”

“Thanks,” Klaus says. 

The waitress drops off some rolls, but this time Klaus doesn’t mind so much. He needs the extra minute to try and sort through what _that_ means. All Dave wants to do is dance, but they aren’t dancing now, and this was his idea. That’s as far sorted as he can get before she’s gone and it’s him and Dave again.

“Nice place,” Dave says.

Klaus latches on to that. He’s not used to conversation being so hard. “I always thought it looked nice in here, yeah.”

Dave ducks his head to try and hide the face he makes. It looks a lot like disgust. That’s fair, it was only a few hours ago that Klaus told him in such a delightfully descriptive way that he used to sleep in trash. It’s one of those things that no amount of showers can ever really wash away the smell of. There’s no needs to remind poor Dave that he’s contractually obligated to put his hands all over it for the week of performances they have coming up after final dress tomorrow.

At least that’s something worth talking about. “These local kids are really something, aren’t they? Those snowflakes are going places.”

That’s a topic with legs. They are able to talk about the show through the meal. Dave takes longer to eat and he’s lingering over his plate, and that’s good. It’s as good a time as any. Klaus couldn’t have said anything at the start of dinner, then they’d have to sit through a whole awkward meal still. Now Klaus can confess and bolt.

So there’s no reason not to.

He can run if he has to.

He really should.

He might not even have to run?

“Klaus,” Dave says. Fuck, Dave has got to stop saying his name like that, Klaus has already suffered enough heart palpitations today. 

They are gathering up their coats, so at least there’s a good reason for him to suddenly be unable to make any eye contact. Klaus is just very concerned about buttons, and lapels, in a general way, and not at all about how, maybe, maybe if he says something, it could be Dave’s hands on those buttons and lapels later this evening.

Dave holds the door open, and since they dance together every day, bodies very much touching, there shouldn’t be any thrill to how Klaus barely brushes against him as he walks through. There _shouldn’t._

“I feel like, that I’ve been getting a sense that — ” Dave’s the one being shifty about eye contact now. Klaus knows because he can’t stop staring. Dave swallows. “If I’m wrong about this you have to tell me. Well, no.”

They are at the crosswalk, and the light switches on for them, so they can go forward, but Dave stops in his tracks and fills up Klaus’ vision with those blue eyes. “No. You don’t ‘have to’ do anything, not ever. Not with me. Not with anyone.”

“Okay.” It’s cold out here and the light is about to change. This dinner is almost over, so if Klaus is going to say something, he needs to now. And it almost sounds like Dave is asking…

“It feels like there could be more going on with us, but if I’m wrong, I just really need you to tell me.”

“You’re not wrong.” Just one sentence, but it takes all of his air. It can’t, though, there’s more to say. Although Klaus isn’t sure exactly what to say next.

‘I have feelings for you?’ It’s not enough. It’s not specific enough to express all of what Klaus feels. ‘I want to find out if your hair is exactly as soft as I think it is,’ isn’t right, although it’s not untrue. ‘I know what your hands feel like on my waist when it’s for work, but I want to know what it’s like when you are touching me because you don’t want to be doing anything else,’ is also true but still not enough. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you, I think about never seeing you again after next week and I panic, I don’t even know what love is but I think I want to learn with you.’ True, true, and true. 

He can’t list them all, there’s too many, it would take a lifetime. He wishes he had that long.

So, he just says, “I do have feelings for you, Dave.” He doesn’t have anything better, and he has to say something. He’s never been in this position before, usually things are just happening and the best Klaus can hope for is that if he says something, they might stop. He’s never had to be the one who makes things start. This time, it feels like what he says might actually matter.

“You’re —” He runs through another list of possibilities. Nice, kind, actually seem happy to see me — “different from everyone else.”

The same look from earlier flickers across Dave’s face. Like he stepped in something nasty and feels bad for the shoe.

“Right,” Dave says. “That’s why I have to ask, because of how things have gone with you before. I need you to know that would never happen with us. I want you to be comfortable dancing with me, and most importantly, I just want you to know you are such an incredible person and I’d be happy even just being your friend. It’s important to me that you know that.”

It’s the nicest let-down Klaus has ever heard. No one’s ever said they wanted to be Klaus’ friend. But also. Beneath the rushing in his ears, a small voice is shouting that all this build-up to ‘just being friends’ is so unnecessary it’s almost cruel. 

His feet keep carrying him forward. He’s been walking beside this guy through this lobby for days on end and they are just used to it. Klaus doesn’t even have to do anything, just let them keep going in the direction they are already headed. They’ll carry him all the way up to his room, not a hitch in his stride, even when it feels like he’s trying to breath around steel wool lodged in the hard part of his throat. 

“I don’t want you to feel that you have to do anything with me,” Dave is saying.

Klaus pivots to the left and into an elevator crowded with couples. The doors slide shut and cut Klaus off as he says, “Alright, thanks for dinner.” 

He makes it three floors up before he can’t stand it anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to ativanpire for being v helpful when I don't know what I'm even doing and also sunriseseance for giving me lots of thoughts to think <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s not angry, when he leaves early and walks to rehearsal alone for the first time in over a week. He’s not angry that Dave coaxed Klaus into making tender confessions just to shut him down. It’s funny, he’s laughing about it.
> 
> “What’s wrong?” Jamie asks him when he takes a spot next to them warming up for the final dress rehearsal.
> 
> “Nothing’s wrong,” he snaps.
> 
> Because it’s funny.

It doesn’t make sense for him to be angry at Dave for not wanting to fuck him. Klaus can’t be mad at Dave for not being into him, it’s completely unreasonable. Klaus doesn’t do angry, as a general rule. Anger sticks around and sours everything else - it’s much easier to decide that he’s not angry because he’d rather laugh instead.

So he’s not angry, when he leaves early and walks to rehearsal alone for the first time in over a week. He’s not angry that Dave coaxed Klaus into making tender confessions just to shut him down. It’s funny, he’s laughing about it.

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asks him when he takes a spot next to them warming up for the final dress rehearsal.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he snaps.

Because it’s funny.

And when Dave shows up a little late with a quiet greeting and small pinched face, it’s not sad, because there’s no reason Klaus should feel anything about Dave moving gingerly like he’s been bruised. And honestly what gives him the right to be looking so wounded? It doesn’t make Klaus angry. 

When Dave tells him “I’ve got you,” before their number, Klaus’ heart doesn’t twist, and it doesn’t sink with the orchestra’s powerful descending scale. His jetés are buffeted on soaring violins, and Dave is steady and strong and beautiful, just beautiful. There’s nothing to be angry about, there. 

Their pas de deux is perfection. Klaus can feel the precision, he knows it’s flawless before Jamie catches his eye with mimed applause in the wings, before the director stands up from her seat and claps for real. 

Tomorrow is opening night, and their performance is tuned perfectly, and Klaus doesn’t like it.

“I think we need more practice.” It’s the first thing he’s said to Dave today. “We just aren’t nailing it.”

Dave raises his eyebrows. “You think so?”

“It’s missing something.”

Dave shrugs. Because he’s just fine with how everything went. With their performance. He’s just humoring Klaus, and that’s a complicated puddle of emotions, but not angry, because Klaus isn’t interested in being angry.

When rehearsal is over and everyone goes home to rest up for opening night, Klaus and Dave meet in a practice room. Dave doesn’t say anything when they prep to start the piece, and Klaus remembers the shiver he got on other shows, cold at the base of his spine from the smiles of vulture ballerinas as they told him to break a leg before his big solo.

They run the whole thing, perfectly. Klaus insists they do it again, and they do, perfectly. There’s a faint frown lining Dave’s face the whole time.

“Is there something in particular you are worried about?” Dave asks him. “The leaps?”

“The leaps, sure, maybe. Let’s work on those, then.”

Dave looks skeptical. “If you think we need to.” 

They work on the leaps. Each one feels like flying, like Klaus’ outstretched fingertips can reach up into the sky and brush the horizon where the atmosphere gives way to magic. 

“Must not be the leaps,” he says. “Let’s run the whole thing again.”

Dave’s usually impeccable posture has wilted. “Klaus.” He doesn’t say anything more than his name. It’s implying a question though, Klaus knows it is, and he knows what that question is, but he’s not planning on answering. He crosses his arms over his chest.

It’s hardly more than a week they have to spend together. That really isn’t too much to get through; Klaus has made it through longer runs with much more difficult interpersonal drama than this. He’s been held close by much more dangerous people.

But this. This, what he’s feeling now, what he’s been feeling since he cracked his own chest open last night — it’s like he can’t stop the bleeding. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” Dave says. “We open tomorrow, Klaus, we can’t burn out tonight.”

He’s talking about their physical bodies, their muscles getting overworked. It is a professional concern to have. And it’s very polite of him, framing it as a ‘we’ problem like Dave can’t just walk out of here on his own the second he wants to.

“What, then,” Klaus asks, “are you going to do about it?”

“You really think I would — ” Dave shakes his head. Finally, finally, he’s wearing an expression Klaus can recognize. He’s angry. “What is your problem with me?”

“What is _your_ problem with _me_?” Klaus shoots back. His gestures are big and pointed. “If you’re mad at me, just be mad already. I’m tired of this.”

“ _You’re_ tired,” Dave mutters.

“I’m over it. I’m over waiting around to see what you’re going to do to me. Just do it already! I’m tired of being scared all the time.” That last part is an accident, coming out a shade too close to the truth, especially after yesterday’s disastrous adventure in honesty. “I’m just tired.”

There’s a long beat of silence, where Klaus tries desperately to come up with another barb but comes up empty. Then Dave nods, small but decisive, and looks away. The trouble about that is all the mirrors in this place. Everywhere Klaus looks, he’s reflected back at himself - sweaty and trembling, a miserable joke of a person.

“If you’re tired,” Dave says, eventually, slowly, “maybe we should sit down.” He waves his hand magnanimously, although of course the only ‘seat’ he can offer in the room is the floor, but Klaus folds easily. That’s when Klaus realizes he’s got angry tears stinging his eyes. Damnit, he’s not supposed to be angry.

Dave sinks down next to him, and _fuck,_ Dave is quiet and kind and beautiful and too good for Klaus. And Klaus is basically a toddler because he’s being ridiculous and crying because he’s sad for himself. He's so sad, for a himself that almost feels like a different person. Klaus knows he doesn’t deserve Dave, but he wishes that the little part of himself that is small and good could have something warm anyway. It’s not something that’s in his power to give.

“Klaus. I like you. A lot.” There’s a ‘but’ coming, Klaus knows. He doesn’t want to hear it, but. But but but — “But I don’t know how to.”

Some moments of quiet pass before Klaus realizes that’s the end of the sentence. “How to? How to what? How to like me?”

“Yeah,” Dave says. “I mean, I know how come I like you.” A secret smile steals across his face, which feels a little rude. If they are talking about Klaus, he should get to be in on that secret. “You’re just very…” 

There’s a number of adjectives Dave could use here. Klaus runs through some options in his head, just to prepare. Difficult, dramatic, exhausting, replaceable. 

“Important,” he says. “And I want to get it right. It seems like a lot of people have — Klaus, I never never want to hurt you, not even on accident, so I want to be really careful, alright?”

There’s a lot, there. A lot of things that Klaus hasn’t heard before, so he’s going to need a little extra time to clear out the space inside to put all of that. One thing he can clarify quickly. “So you do like me.” Dave nods, and smiles that smile, and Klaus thinks he might know the secret after all. “And I really - god, Dave, I _really_ like you.”

“Well then. That’s great news.” Dave puts out his hand, palm up. Klaus takes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next and last chapter is just a little epilogue and it's written and I'll be posting that up too tonight as soon as I can. Thanks for all your comments as I wrote this! It was meant to be for fun and it really has been thanks to you all! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a tiny epilogue

Call Klaus a sap, but the theatre is a place of magic and that’s just the truth. And this ballet being the Nutcracker means there is Christmas magic afoot, and the magic of opening night. And the magic of what’s going on with him and Dave. 

Alright, Klaus is definitely a sap. He’s fine with it.

Dave. Dave who is leaving town after the show, and then going to be a guest teacher at a ballet intensive he always does at the start of the year. That’s not upsetting to Klaus, not the way that it could be. Dave says he’s seen the way Klaus is with the youngest members of the ensemble, and he thinks Klaus would be a good addition to the teaching staff, too.

He said all of this last night. They didn’t do any more dancing, but they didn’t do as much resting as maybe they could have, either. That sounds like a euphemism, but mostly, they talked. 

Dave has an impossibly soft blanket he got as a gift from his sister that he brings everywhere he travels, and Klaus couldn’t stop feeling it. Running his hands back and forth across the fake fur that somehow felt like water, and watching Dave’s lips break into a grin that Klaus had put there. Klaus felt all of it. He felt everything. He still is.

Act One is almost over. He doesn’t go on until Act Two, so he doesn’t need to be in the wings right now, but the snowflakes are on. It doesn’t matter that they’ve all performed before, it’s opening night at the Philharmonic, that’s exciting, and Klaus isn’t going to miss it.

Klaus is biased in favor of the pas de deux, but besides that, this is one of the best numbers in the ballet. Pure white pointe shoes pirouetting across the stage as glitter snow falls from above. When the choir comes in, they sound like angels.

Dave is by his side. The light spilling from the stage catches the gold in his hair.  Hair that is just as soft as it looks, when Klaus runs his fingers through it. Golden and soft and something Klaus can touch. He’s holding onto a treasure.

Dave strokes a finger along Klaus’ jaw, ever so lightly, like his hands feel the same reverence that Klaus does. 

It’s magic, when they kiss backstage on opening night, and the sparkling snow isn’t even cold at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, I'll just quietly let you know that I have a Klaus and Dave story that is like this, but canon(ish) and 5x the everything. (It's called Everyone Gets Here Eventually, just you know, if you want to know). Thanks so much for all your comments and kudos, I had so much fun writing this!!


End file.
